


Topknots and Tapouts

by zmoc



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zmoc/pseuds/zmoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity is having a hard time dealing with the fallout from the Count's abduction and Oliver notices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hiding from sightless eyes

Oliver gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he turned to leave, then asked if she needed an escort to her car. She declined the offer citing a couple of programs still running, and wished him goodnight, settling at the monitor until she heard the clang of the door behind him. Finally alone, Felicity let her death grip on the blanket wrapped around her loosen slightly. 

She pulled up the autopsy report, her shoulders relaxing as she found the first pictures of the dead Count. It should have made her feel better.

She left the foundry when the light of dawn was threatening outside, knowing sleep would elude her this night, not caring.

The next morning, Oliver found her at her desk in the office, doing a second take at her new hairstyle, her normally cascading ponytail secured in a tight bun.

“Morning,” he said, his eyes asking the question.

“Morning Oliver,” she replied, giving him a small smile as she launched into his business day, the signs of destruction swept away overnight.

He didn’t get a break until early afternoon, studying her from his desk while he was supposed to be reviewing contracts.

Felicity’s apology the night before had shaken him, her lack of self worth still rung in his ears. She seemed closed off today, but it could have been the knot she'd trapped her hair in. As if she felt his gaze, she looked over her shoulder, flashing him a brief smile and then sternly glancing at the stack of paperwork on his desk. He allowed himself a sigh and returned to his work.

The sun sank outside the building as he wrapped up the last few tasks for his day job. He stopped by her desk as he headed out.

“When will you be by tonight?” he murmured, always careful outside the confines of his office.

She turned in her chair, facing him as she caught his gaze.

“I’ll be an hour here, then I need to run home and change. I’ll bring dinner.” She dismissed him with a small smile. 

“Bring your gym bag,” Oliver advised, watching her face fall but not acknowledging it as he turned on his heel and left.

Felicity slumped at her desk for a moment, pouting, then quickly refocused on her remaining tasks so she could get out the door.

Diggle and Oliver were already sparring when she let herself in the access door, her gym bag slung over her shoulder and her arms weighed down with Chinese takeout.

“How are you recovering, Digg?” she called out to her friend.

“Good, no lingering after effects. The new antiserum seems to be working.” He dodged a punch and downed Oliver, straightening and heading off the mats towards her. He grabbed a towel and dried the sheen of sweat from his torso as he came forward to help her with the bags. “How about you?”

She smiled at him briefly as he took the bags from her, moving them to a central table.

“Thanks - I got you the spicy pork. Hungry?”

Oliver frowned as he stepped off the mat, noting her subtle avoidance of Digg’s question. He thought back to the previous evening, she hadn’t answered his direct question either. And her hair was still in that damn topknot.

“Hey,” he said softly, coming up behind them. 

She whirled, smiling at him once her eyes focused on his face. “Hey - I got you the chicken you like,” she started. He cut her off with a hand on her shoulder, leaning over her as he surveyed the food.

“Thanks - let’s eat and then you and I are going to train.”

Her eyes snapped back around to meet his. “What?”

Oliver smiled briefly at her, he’d expected this resistance. “Eat, then you and I are going to train.”

“I’m not deaf, Oliver. Why am I training with you? I’ve been working with John.”

He was silent as he dished himself up some rice and chicken, sitting back on the table and letting his eyes search her frame, looking for any injury he may have missed.

“Felicity,” he started, making her cringe internally at his tone. He wasn’t going to budge and she was too exhausted to argue.

“Fine - whatever,” she grabbed a box of noodles and sat down away from the two men, warming up her machines. Digg and Oliver shared a concerned glance as they ate in silence.

After they finished eating, the two men cleaned up the small space, then Digg headed out, citing a late date. She stiffened as she realized she would be training with Oliver alone, without the familiar cushion of her older friend.

“Hey,” she jumped and whirled in her chair, not realizing how close he had gotten behind her. “You OK?” His eyes were concerned, roving over her features. 

She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes until his hand came down gently on her arm. 

“I just want to see where you are with your self defense moves. Digg's huge but I’m closer in size to you,” he allowed himself a small grin as she snorted. “I am. I just want to test you with some close in moves. I’m not going to lose control, and I’m not going to hurt you. We can stop any time.”

Her heart clenched with guilt. If she had been able to free herself the night before, he may not have had to kill again. Regret filled her eyes as she nodded and looked away.

“Felicity,” he started, his voice warning her. “No. Last night was not your fault. We just want to give you as many tools to help you should you need them. That’s all.”

“OK,” she murmured. “I’ll go get changed.”

She disengaged his arm and headed to the small bathroom to change, aware of his eyes following her until she was behind the closed door. She sighed as she regarded herself in the mirror, dark circles starting to show under her eyes. She hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, continually feeling the Count’s arm at her throat, his hands on her. She shuddered and set about changing, not wanting Oliver to accuse her of hiding out in the bathroom to avoid her session. She emerged a few minutes later in a light, long-sleeved tee and yoga pants, her glasses in her hand and her hair still tight in a bun.

“Ready?”

She nodded at his now blurry figure, thankfully still clad in a t-shirt.

He held out a hand to her and pulled her up on the mats. “Digg and I use a tap out - if one of us is done with an exercise or is in a grip they can’t get out of,” he explained. “Just double tap my arm and I’ll let you loose immediately.” She nodded in silence, smiling as he grinned wickedly. “You have to do the same when I tap out as well.”

She huffed at that. “What do you want me to do?”

“What do you usually do with Digg?”

She explained her normal routine to him, feeling his eyes on her even though he was out of focus. 

“OK. Instead of attack, I want to work with you on avoiding getting in my grasp,” he started. “Put your glasses back on, I’ll make sure we don’t break them.” She nodded silently and complied, missing his probing gaze as he came back into focus.

“Ready?” he asked again. At her nod, his muscles hardened, and he became the predator. He came at her quickly, so fast she couldn’t make out his hands until they were wrapped around her arm. 

“No-“ she gasped out, wrenching herself free and running for the other side of the mat. He cut her off before she could exit and reached out again, allowing a small grunt of satisfaction as his fingers barely brushed her shoulder.

He cut off her escape route again, watching as she pivoted and ran for the other corner. “Stop running in a straight line, Felicity. Make yourself a harder target,” he called out encouragingly even as he jumped in her path again. 

She whirled, her breath coming in short gasps. She complied with his orders, zig zagging through the small space as he easily kept pace behind her, driving her around the mat until a sheen of sweat started to show. When she had stopped reacting with panic and started strategically dodging him, he called the exercise a success. 

“OK, enough,” he stilled, relaxing himself slowly as she moved to the far end of the mat before regarding him warily.

Her hands on her knees, she glared at him. “I think my lo mein is going to come back up in a minute,” she complained between gasping breaths.

He chuckled. “Come on, that’s enough for tonight. You did well. Go get cleaned up.” She noticed that he hadn’t even broken a sweat and her eyes narrowed.

“Stupid in-shape scary Oliver,” she grumbled as she headed for a quick shower.

When she emerged in her jeans and bright sweater, he was again disappointed to see her hair, freshly washed, swept up in a bun.

“What’s with the new style?” he questioned, a gentle smile on his face.

“Just trying something different,” she replied, heading towards her desk.

“What are you working on?” he asked, coming to stand behind her in his usual pose. He was surprised when she angled herself to face him, explaining the searches she had initiated to track down the last of the Vertigo dealers still at large.

He was following her screen clicks, noting she had sent a number of anonymous tips to the SCPD to capture those remaining free. Oliver frowned as he noticed a corner of one screen buried under the others.

“What’s that?” Felicity moved to close the window, but Oliver was faster, anticipating her move and snatching the mouse from her hand. He was struck silent as he saw the autopsy photos, the sightless eyes of the Count staring out at them.

“Feli-“ he started as she grabbed the mouse back, closing the window with a huff. She reached for her bag and turned for the door, her face flushed. He snagged her elbow before she was able to extricate herself fully, not letting her shake him off and pulling her to a stop.

“Felicity,” his voice was gravelly. She was still, refusing to look up at him. He slowly released her elbow and she crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. “Felicity - what happened?”

She was silent for so long that he leaned in, whispering her name in her ear, his tone deep and almost threatening. She jerked back, glaring at him.

“Don’t.”

Oliver stood back, crossing his own arms across his chest as he stared down at her.

She huffed and spun on her heel, edging past him towards the door.

“Felicity-“ he started.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Queen,” she called back.

Oliver started after her and stopped himself. He’d give her time to cool down before he tried again. He’d obviously missed something the night before.


	2. Running in place

In the morning, Felicity was already at her desk when he and Diggle made their way into the office. Her hair was again swept up into a bun, lower on her head this time. The look was softer, but he still missed her ponytail.

“Morning,” he greeted her, placing a large coffee on her desk. “Did you get some rest last night?” Oliver had berated himself the previous evening and come in today with the resolve to apologize for his actions. He hoped to put her at ease so she would come to him with whatever was bothering her. He wanted the awkwardness behind them, even if it burned up his curiosity and concern for his friend.

“Morning, Oliver, thanks,” she responded, then launched into his schedule for the day. “It’s a busy one today — you have back to backs pretty much all day. I managed to push your lunch with Isabel to tomorrow but only because you have a review with R&D instead.” She glanced up at him for a moment and then focused on her monitor. “I’d get in there, I’ve lined up the summary documents for you to review. You have about ten minutes before your first appointment.”

Oliver could feel his shoulders tightening. He hated the CEO role, he hated the endless meetings, the meaningless discussions in half of them drove him to a special level of murderous boredom. Groaning to himself, he decided to handle one issue head on. He tapped his fingers on her desk, getting her attention and waiting for her to look up at him again.

“Hey,” he started, his voice soft as he studied her features, noting the dark circles she’d tried to hide with concealer.

She didn’t respond, just watched him, waiting for a directive of some sort.

After a moment, he started. “About yesterday-“

“It was nothing, Oliver,” she cut him off. “I needed to see the autopsy report and didn’t close it. It was my mistake.” She met his eyes cooly, nothing showing behind her mask. 

“Felicity-“ he tried again, but she again interrupted.

“Oliver, you have the head of Applied Sciences coming up here in seven minutes. You need to review his prospectus before he’s in your office asking for an unlimited budget.” Her voice was warning him, even if she was hiding behind her words.

He clenched his jaw, frustrated. He studied her for a moment, his head tipping to the side as he noted the stiffness in her spine and the stubborn set to her shoulder. After a long moment where she refused to break eye contact, he spoke.

“Fine. But bring your gear tonight. And don’t be late.”

“Oli-“ she called out, but he was already gone, settling himself behind his desk with a grimace and angrily grabbing up the first stapled report to review. 

The day passed in a blur, his anger permeating most of the meetings. By the end of the day, Oliver had approved two projects for applied sciences and rejected four, made his head of accounting question her career path, scared marketing into abandoning not one, but two campaigns around the new Vertigo vaccine, and managed one civil conversation with their head of R&D. Throughout the day, he had not once managed to catch his assistant in a private setting, and every attempt he did make at conversation about their outside activities had swiftly been shut down. Oliver was mentally exhausted and in a foul mood by the time 6 PM rolled around. 

He stopped by her desk on his way out.

“See you in an hour,” he stated, turning halfway before she caught him.

“Oliver - about tonight,” Felicity bit her lip, her prepared excuse now seeming woefully inadequate.

“No, Felicity. I’ll see you in an hour,” the implied threat was there. Don’t make me come find you. We’ll settle this on my turf.

She started to protest, but one look at his face made her swallow her words.

Exactly an hour and five minutes later, Felicity was surprised to find Oliver missing when she stomped into the lair.

“He got held up,” Diggle provided. “Something about his mother’s release paperwork. He wants us to warm up.”

She groaned. “John,” she started, trying to wheedle herself out of the impending session.

“John nothing, Felicity. He’s right. We have to make these moves second nature to you, to the point where you don’t think, you just react, but react in self preservation.”

Felicity dropped her bag by the computer bank, huffing as she sat down.

“I’m to give you fifteen minutes to do whatever checks and searches you need to kick off, then get started. I don’t know what you did to piss him off, but you’re under his skin.”

She muttered something under her breath and John laughed as he picked up the words “pig-headed” and “dictatorial”. She tapped away at her keyboards, not looking up until she felt Diggle’s huge presence behind her.

“Come on, he’s mad at you for once. I don’t want him taking it out on me as well,” he gently turned her chair towards the annex and pushed her forward.

“Fine,” she huffed, grabbing her bag and heading to change. Felicity dawdled in the bathroom for as long as she could, knowing her actions were immature at best, but not caring. She was tired and frustrated. The night before, every time she’d managed to fall asleep, she would see the Count in her dreams, his sightless eyes from the autopsy photos focusing on her or his maniacal laugh echoing in her ears as he slammed needle after needle into her neck. The worst was when she she felt the whisper of her hair falling on the nape of her neck as he caressed her, his breath hot on her ear. By the time 6 AM had rolled around she was tempted to call her hairdresser and go with a pixie cut.

She emerged after about twenty minutes, dressed again in a simple long sleeve tee and yoga pants, her hair tightly secured in a bun. 

“Fine John, you win. Let’s do this before-“ her words trailed away as she realized that her friend was nowhere to be found, instead her furious boss stood in front of her.

“Oliver,” she started, her feet rooted to the floor where she stood. “What happened to Digg?”

“He got called away,” he offered briefly, turning and heading towards the mats. “Ready?”

“Oliver,” she tried again, only to be cut off.

“On the mats, Felicity.” His voice was short, and when she studied him she saw the anger he was holding in check.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she offered hesitantly, stepping towards the computer bank. In a flash he was there, blocking her way. 

“It’s the only idea, Felicity, until I say it isn’t. Now let’s go.” He reached out to grab her arm and was pleasantly surprised when she dodged his grasp.

“You’re not in the best frame of mind, Oliver,” she tried again.

He sighed. “I promised you yesterday I wasn’t going to lose control and wasn’t going to hurt you. I - we need for you to work on this.”

Felicity studied him for a long moment, noting his shoulders relaxing and the anger starting to drain away. “OK.” She removed her glasses, turning to put them on a table, and followed his blurry figure on the desk.

They started with some loose stretching, then he chased her around the mats for the next ten minutes, pleased to see less panic and more deliberate movements in her reactions. He called a stop to the exercise and let her catch her breath before moving into her space.

“What holds has Diggle been working on with you?”

Oliver listened as she talked through their progress, working through a few of the holds and her moves to escape with him. After an hour, both had relaxed into their familiar roles as partners. Felicity was flushed and sweaty, her hair coming loose at the sides, when he moved into a behind the back hold, one arm around her neck anchoring her to him. 

Her hair tickled his nose as he was trying to walk her through the grip, and in annoyance Oliver reached up with his free hand and tugged the knot loose, running the mass through his fingers until it fell softly against her neck. He wasn’t paying enough attention and though he felt her frame stiffen, he wasn't prepared for the explosion that followed. 

Felicity reacted without thought or logic and was out the door before Oliver could straighten, blood pouring from his nose. He took a step to follow her but saw the drops of blood spattering on the mats and caught himself, swearing. There was no way Oliver Queen could get away with running into the club like this. He settled for grabbing an ice pack and sitting at the monitors, trying to stem the flow and determine the extent of the injury. He swore again as he realized his nose was broken, at the same time biting back admiration that his IT girl had finally gotten the drop on him.

Oliver again decided to let it go for the night. Tomorrow was Saturday, he and Diggle could corner her in the foundry.


	3. Nannies and nightlights

By the time Monday rolled around, Oliver was beyond concerned and frustrated. Felicity had texted Diggle both days throughout the weekend, claiming a stomach bug and not coming in. She’d avoided all of Oliver’s attempts to contact her short of showing up on her doorstep. When he stepped into his office that morning and saw the temp from the PA pool, he knew he would have to confront her directly.

Felicity was warm, warmer and cozier than she’d been in days. Something was niggling at the fringe of her consciousness, but she fought it, snuggling back into the warmth. Then she caught herself, knowing that she didn’t want to be this comfortably asleep. With a gasp, she woke to find her arms pinned gently to her side, an iron band holding her tight against a very warm body. She panicked, struggling for a moment until she registered his voice and their location.

“Felicity! Felicity, calm down, it’s me,” he stated, easing his grip around her. He loosened enough for her to see his jawline, knowing that she recognized him when her stiff frame relaxed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly, trying to calm her heart rate.

“You have to ask?”

She stretched out, now realizing they were laying on her couch. She wriggled against him, trying to get up, but his arms tightened and pulled her closer to his frame. 

“Oliver,” she protested.

“Hmmm?”

“I’d like to get up now,” she gritted out. “And why are you here?”

Oliver was silent for a moment, his grip not letting up. She noted that he had a leg wrapped around hers, essentially holding her hostage.

“Oliver, let me up,” Felicity pulled against him again, but his hold was gentle and unyielding.

“Not quite yet, Felicity. We need to talk.” She fought him in earnest now, but he held his head away from hers and absorbed the jabs from her elbows. After a few moments of her struggling, he tightened his grip, holding her motionless against him.

“Let me go, Oliver,” her voice was frustrated, though she stopped fighting him.

“Felicity, I found you on your balcony, passed out in the rain, on the cusp of hypothermia. You didn’t even move when I picked you up. How exhausted were you?” 

She sighed, but didn’t speak. 

“You were soaking wet, Felicity. I had to get you into dry clothes,” Oliver braced himself as she stiffened. “Your skin’s rubbed raw. How far did it go?”

She fought against his hold again, trying to raise her arms to gain purchase. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please, let me go.”

“I can’t,” she couldn’t help but notice that he sounded disgruntled. “Whatever happened, you’re not handling it effectively. Tell me what he did.”

She stopped fighting him then, trying another tactic.

After a few minutes of her stubborn silence, he nudged her.

“It’s not going to work, Felicity. I can wait here as long as you can. You’ve been avoiding me, and I’m guessing you were avoiding dealing with this.”

“Why are you pushing this?” she was squirming again, trying to free an arm, huffing when he easily adjusted her against him, keeping her immobilized. “And why won’t you let me go?”

Oliver ignored her second question for the time being. He didn’t want her to see the damage she’d done to his face yet. “We need you back, Felicity, and I need to work through this so you can get back to OK. Talk to me. Tell me what happened so I can figure out how to help you.”

“I don’t want your help, Oliver,” she started.

“Tell me about the nightmares, Felicity,” he snapped. “When was the last time you slept without waking up screaming? Why were you on the balcony in the freezing rain?”

“Stop it Oliver, I don’t want to talk about it. I can handle it myself.”

“You’re doing a shitty job of it so far,” he grunted.

“Let me up.”

“Tell me about the nightmares.” Felicity heard the steel in his voice and knew that he was settling in for the battle.

“There’s nothing to tell, Oliver. Let it be. I’m fine.”

Later, he’d wonder what drove him to the edge. Oliver knew he was going to push her, knew he was going to hit her triggers. He knew it was fighting dirty, taking advantage of her fears. He didn't know if she would forgive him, but he felt it would force her over the edge. Hoped it would, at least.

Securing her with one arm, he freed a hand, and reached for her hair. He leaned forward, his lips next to her ear. Gently caressing her ponytail, he challenged her. “I don’t think you're fine, Felicity.”

She bucked against him, nearly getting loose before he tightened his grip again.

“Let me go!”

“Tell me, Felicity. What did he do that has you afraid to close your eyes?”

She fought him in silence for a few more moments before her body gave out. “Please,” she started. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know,” the regret was evident in his voice. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have pushed, but I need you to talk to me. Please.”

Felicity was quiet for a long moment, and Oliver thought he’d lost her again. He was surprised when her husky voice broke the silence.

“When - when you changed me, how much did you see?”

He grimaced. “I tried not to. Your skin is so raw — bleeding in spots. And there were bruises,” he let his voice trail off.

Oliver heard her sniff, and this time when Felicity went to sit up, she gently tapped his arm and he let her rise, moving with her and offering her a tissue.

“Nothing, uh, nothing bad happened,” she started, looking anywhere but at him. “Nothing, permanent, I guess.” 

Oliver curved his frame around her bent one, running his hands soothingly over her shoulders. 

“He just, he wanted such a reaction. He wanted me to tell him you were the Arrow, even though he already knew. He kept telling me what he was going to do to me when you were there,” she cut off, taking a shuddering breath, and was silent for a few minutes as he seethed inside, regret shaping his features.

“He got mad, when I wouldn’t tell him, wouldn’t play his game. He kept groping, fondling, and I couldn’t fight him off. He had me tied to that chair, I couldn't get free,” Felicity trailed off, trembling as she remembered. 

“He kept fixating on my ponytail, not yanking on it, he kept-ugh- kept stroking it, petting it,” her voice was rising, disgust evident. “He’d use it to keep me still when he, uh, he,” her voice dissolved into a whisper and she cleared her throat. “He’d wrap it around his hand and use it to anchor me when he shoved his tongue down my throat. I was gagging, trying to bite him, but he’d just pull my head back farther,” she broke off, reaching for another tissue. “God, I’m a mess.” 

Oliver gently hugged her back to him, running his hands up and down her arms. 

“He’d prod me with those damn needles, over and over. All over, through my dress, wherever he could reach. Always with his thumb on the plunger, wanting me to beg.”

“God, Felicity.”

She buried her face in her hands, allowing herself a single sob before she straightened her shoulders. She glanced back at him, and if the situation had been less dire he would have laughed at the change in her expression.

“What happened to you?” she took in his matching black eyes, the tape on his nose. “Did Diggle do that?”

Oliver did chuckle then, unable to hold it in. “You - um, you did this the other night.”

She was speechless. “I did that? To you?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes roving her face. “I was trying to chase you, but I slipped on the geyser of blood coming from my face.”

“I wondered how I got out of there. I’m sorry.”

His gaze settled on hers, gentle now. “Nothing to be sorry for, Felicity. Diggle won’t stop giving me shit about it, but nothing to be sorry for on my part.”

She nodded, turning back away from him. 

“I’m not sorry, Oliver. That’s the worst part. He was a horrible, horrible human being. He was so sick, and he wasn’t going to stop. I’m not sorry he’s dead. That’s what I feel the worst about. I’m sorry you had to kill him, sorry you broke your vow, but I’m not sorry he’s gone.” She turned back, meeting his gaze steadily as Oliver squeezed her hand.

“I get it. I’d do it again, Felicity. He had you. He hurt you.”

“He-uh-he did. He didn’t - I mean, it could have been so much worse. But he’s in my head, Oliver. I can’t sleep without feeling his hand in my hair, I don’t want to sleep and remember that again.”

“That’s why you were on the balcony?”

“Yeah - it was cool out, I thought it would keep me awake. Every time I would fall asleep, he’d be there, in my ear. I could feel him.” She was starting to get upset again.

“You were having nightmares when I got here. You’d calm down if I was with you. That’s how we ended up here.”

“Great - I’ll need a nanny and a nightlight for the rest of my life at this rate,” she frowned. “I need to work through this, Oliver. I need to fix myself.”

“You need to work through it, Felicity, but not on your own. We need you too much to let you suffer like this. We care about you too much to let you suffer alone.”

“But-“

“But nothing, Felicity. The last few days have been hell for us, watching you go through this, knowing you were struggling and not letting us help you.” Oliver bent down, making sure he had her eyes for this. “We are a team. You are not by yourself. Digg and I are here to help you, however necessary.”

She turned away. “He made me feel weak,” she whispered, “He got into my head and he made me feel weak and afraid. I don’t know how to come back from that.”

“Hey,” he nudged her, sliding to sit beside her, his arm a comforting weight on her shoulders. “Hey - look at me, come on.” Felicity looked up at him, her eyes studying his. “We will get through this. We’ll do what it takes to help you move on. You are not weak. You are one of the strongest people I know.”

She smiled softly at him, squeezing his hand before rising stiffly. “Thanks. I’m going to grab a shower — do you need anything else?”

He smirked at her wryly. “Nice try. I’ll be here when you get out. There are a few hours left before we have to get to the office. I thought we could catch up on your sleep.”

She turned halfway back to him, a smile on her lips. “Thank you.”

“That’s what we’re here for, Felicity.”

“Yeah. Ummm - do you want some sweats or something? If you’re going to stay, you won’t be comfortable in your dress clothes.”

“Sure.”

She retreated into her room, grabbing some of her exes old clothes, and tossed them to him on her way to the shower. “If I’m not out in 15 minutes, knock. I need to let my skin grow back.”

“Alright.”

Felicity disappeared into the bathroom and as he heard the shower start up, Oliver let himself truly relax for the first time in days. If he hadn’t already taken care of it, the Count would be next on his list. He quickly texted Diggle, then settled down to wait on his friend and help her start to heal.


End file.
